


Changing of the Guard

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-19
Updated: 1999-03-19
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Meg contemplates Fraser's penchant for getting into trouble.





	Changing of the Guard

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Changing Of The Guard

Another Thatcher one, oops. Oh, well! I like hearing about transitions in relationships; I guess that's what this story _attempts_ to look at. I can't seem to get it right, eventually thought I'd just post it so I could forget it. Still haven't learned to come up with decent titles :^) (or plots, or dialogue, or...) 

All the usual disclaimers etc. Would it be ethical to copy someone's copyright statement? We used to wonder about this when writing theses at uni. 

Nik 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

# Changing of the Guard

by Nicola Heiser 

The explosion, and the look on his face. She'd known what he was thinking, even without seeing him struggle to rise, and she snapped at him. "Don't be an idiot, Fraser. We just got you _out_." 

"But..." 

"I'll get them. You're in no condition to be rescuing anyone." 

"I'm going with you." 

"Only if you think I can't get them out." 

\----- 

She pulled up in front of the Vecchio house, where Ray and Diefenbaker were waiting for her on the pavement. The detective opened the passenger door and let the wolf in first. Meg looked at them both, exasperated. 

"Detective, you can't bring the wolf into the hospital." 

"Naah, he's okay, he's been there before. They like him." 

"You're kidding." 

"No, really. They give him food." 

Dryly, she observed, "In a hospital, I think that's a hostile act." She started the car again, and almost as an afterthought, asked him, "How's your arm?" 

Ray waved the cast about slightly, testing it, restricted by the sling. "It's fine. Itches like hell, but you get that. What about you?" 

Meg looked into the rear vision mirror, seeing the scorch mark across her cheekbone. "Hardly anything." 

\----- 

A child screaming, Vecchio trying to get free of a section of wall that had him pinned to the floor. Beside him, nursing a foot, the white wolf whimpered from time to time, and licked the defenceless detective's face. 

"What happened?" 

"What does it look like? ...what are _you_ doing here?" 

"What does it look like?" She circled him, acutely conscious of how little time they had, assessing the situation. "If I were to lift this, could you slide out?" 

"You're gonna lift it? You'll never get a grip against the floor. You're really dressed for this, Inspector. I hope you picked a nice purse to go with those heels." 

"Yeah, that's it, Vecchio." The sarcastic response was automatic as she squatted down and braced the wall against her shoulders. "Every morning when I get dressed for my job as a liaison officer at a consulate, I think, 'Now, today I'm going to be rescuing my do-right deputy and his wayward cop friend from a raging fire; I'd better wear the Dior suit.'" 

He was right; it was difficult for her to get purchase against the floor in her ridiculous shoes. She could feel her feet slipping, but it was enough for Vecchio to wriggle free. He sat up, a grimace of pain on his face as he cradled his arm against his chest, but managed to retort through it. "What, you only have the one?" 

\----- 

Ray was grinning "see?" triumphantly at her as nurses, orderlies and doctors alike greeted him and Diefenbaker cheerfully. Meg shook her head in disbelief. "I don't even want to think about how many health regulations we're breaking." 

"Ya know, that never bothered Benny. - Hey, Tom." Ray waved at another of the hospital workers as they walked through the halls. 

"Just how long have you and Fraser spent at this hospital?" she asked him curiously. "You seem to know everyone." 

His face closed over briefly, and then he forced a smile. "Long enough, Inspector. We get like frequent flyer points here. Fraser's saved enough for a nose job and a tonsillectomy already." 

"And I'm sure he just can't wait to claim." 

"I don't think he needs to. He's got enough women throwing themselves at him as it is." He gave her a sidelong glance, asking her with a studied nonchalance, "Don't you agree?" 

"I never gave the subject much consideration, Detective," she told him in her most quelling voice, maintaining a disinterested expression. _Give it a rest, Vecchio._

"So, do you visit all your men in hospital, Inspector? I mean, if it were Turnbull lying in that bed, would you be rushing in on your weekend to see him?" 

A little stung, she turned to him. "As a matter of fact, yes, Detective. He is one of my officers, and I'm responsible for him." And then some devil inside her prompted her to add, "Although in Turnbull's case, I'd probably be rushing in to turn off life support." 

For a moment, Ray stared at her, dumbfounded, and then started laughing helplessly. "I'd be right behind you on that one, Inspector." 

\----- 

The child, it seemed, had taken an immediate dislike to her. _That's another for the tally. Surely I've set some sort of record by now._ It wouldn't stop screaming, and any attempt on her part to get it to stop only made things worse. 

She turned, irritably, to the Chicago detective to deal with the situation. "I can't hear myself think with that racket." 

"Oh, you're in a charming mood today, Inspector." 

"Detective, I just raced _into_ a burning building to rescue a deaf wolf, a screaming child and an obnoxious American, none of whom would be terribly devastated if I never came out. So forgive me if..." 

_There, under the rubble._ She pulled it free, forcing herself not to hope; any number of things could be wrong with it. But the pressure, if the gauge was reading properly, was high enough that the extinguisher might be of use. "You'll have to carry the wolf." 

"The kid ain't gonna like that. And I've only got one good arm right now." 

"Which is why I have to operate this. The child can hold on to me without help." 

"Excuse me for being incredibly obtuse, Inspector, but what makes you think you can put out the fire with that measly little thing?" 

"We're not going to put it out, Vecchio. It's a powdered chemical extinguisher. If I spray it into the air, it will cool the flames down long enough for us to get through the door." 

"Oh, yeah?" His voice was heavy with disbelief. She knew that, as plans go, this one was fairly weak, but time was pressing, and her voice grew sharp, sarcastic. 

"Detective, I might remind you that we're trapped in a burning building. I don't know what your experience with this is, but I've found that lingering inside rarely improves your situation." 

There was that agonised, indecisive look she hated seeing, that told of how hard it was to trust her judgement, to trust her. She turned away abruptly, but Vecchio surprised her by speaking almost immediately. 

"Kid, I've got some bad news for you." 

\----- 

_Oh, Fraser._ She watched over the slow rise and fall of his chest with a curious mix of emotions. Even asleep, he looked drawn and tired, his face unnaturally pale. _Why do you keep doing this? You're going to drive one of us into an early grave._

She took her seat in a chair beside the bed, studying his profile, trying to identify the source of the guilt she felt. _He seemed fine when I left him._ But that was an excuse she did not accept from a subordinate and would hardly accept from herself now. _What should I have done? He was fine, and there were people inside. I had to go._

No matter how many times she went over the scenario, she came up with the same solution, but it still didn't assuage the peculiar regret within her. Sighing, she reached out a hand to his forehead, to check his temperature, to reassure herself that he was still alive. Something she couldn't name welled up inside her, tightening her chest and constricting her throat, and she moved to gently touch the side of his face. 

Nearing footsteps in the corridor alerted her, and she snatched her hand away, schooling her expression into that of an appropriately reserved inspector. She stood and moved to the window as Vecchio and the wolf entered, crossing the room to Fraser's side. 

Ray kept his expression neutral, watching his friend's breathing for a few cycles before speaking carefully. "You know, Inspector, I'm hardly going to think any less of you for showing that you care about him." 

"Of course not," she replied absently. So many unfamiliar emotions haunted her recently, and now she had to contend with an urge to turn to Ray for comfort. _Why, all of a sudden, all this self-doubt? And why this need for vindication from Vecchio, of all people?_

"Inspector..." Ray's tone was quizzical, concerned. "Are you all right?" 

Meg looked at him, distracted. "What?" 

"Is there anything you wanted to talk about?" 

_Do you think I was right to leave him and go back in after you?_ But it was a question a child would ask, plaintively, seeking reassurance. Abruptly, she turned back to the window. "No, Detective. I'm fine, thank you." 

\----- 

The wolf could hardly be comfortable; Vecchio's good arm almost cut him in half as he tried to keep him from slipping. The child, mercifully, was silent save for the occasional, hiccuping sob. She forced herself to ignore the choking arms about her neck, looking up to meet Ray's eyes. He grinned tightly at her, barely masking his tension. "You ready to do your Mountie thing?" 

"Detective... this may not work." 

"I know." 

"We can't afford to test the extinguisher to see if it's functioning. And even if we can get out of here, the rest of the building is still on fire." 

"I know." 

"So you get out. No heroics. You don't wait for me, you don't look back to check I'm following, you don't offer advice or warnings. You just get out." 

The look he gave her was almost friendly as he smiled. "I do get the picture." 

She smiled back, a little awkwardly. "Hey, Vecchio. Just because we've faced a life-threatening situation together is no reason for us to emerge from our ordeal with resolved issues and a new-found respect and understanding for each other." 

He grinned, green eyes dancing. "Hey, lady, don't worry. Respect and understanding for you never even crossed my mind. Now, did you say something before about getting the hell out of here?" 

\----- 

She was still staring out of the window at the hospital grounds when she heard his voice, rasping slightly. "Inspector." 

She turned quickly to him, trying to hide her relief. "Fraser." She glanced over him with an experienced eye, evaluating his condition, noting that his usually clear eyes were clouded slightly, that his face was tight. "How are you feeling?" 

"Fine, thank you, ma'am," he assured her in the face of all evidence. 

"Liar," she returned without rancour. "The doctor says you'll be here for at least a week." 

He managed a tired half-smile in response, but then struggled to sit up, his face clearly expressing his worry. "Ray - Detective Vecchio, and Diefenbaker?" 

"Easy, Constable." She pushed him back down, gently. "They're fine. Much better than you. Vecchio had to go down to the children's ward; your wolf has some child holed up in the playroom as hostage for the morning tea trolley." 

"Oh, dear." He looked up at her, stricken. "I did teach him better than that." 

"I'm sure you did, Constable." She saw that her hand was still on his shoulder, and made herself move it away. "The detective will sort it out, and if that fails, Diefenbaker has mastered limping and looking pitiful." 

"Thank you for helping them, Inspector." 

"That's really not necessary, Fraser," she told him briskly. "It's what we do, after all." She added, with a wry half-smile, "I should have realised something was wrong with you when you didn't follow me in. It's not like you to miss an opportunity to flout an order." 

He smiled slightly at her, acknowledging the hit. "No, ma'am. ...I mean, yes... that is to say..." 

She watched him, amused, as he floundered, trying to find an appropriate response. _If he were well enough to stand, he'd be at attention right now, just for something to do._

Instead, he shifted about on the bed, trying to settle comfortably, his movements made awkward by his injuries. After a moment of indecision, she went to help him, supporting his back as she rearranged the pillows for him. "Fraser, since your arrival in Chicago, how many times have you been hospitalised?" 

He looked thoughtful, considering the question. "Including psychiatric admissions?" 

"And arrested?" 

"Well, I was cleared on all charges..." 

"And you were jailed once, I believe." 

"Yes, but I did explain to Lt Welsh..." 

"And your wolf - wasn't he sentenced to be destroyed at one stage?" 

"Yes, but..." Fraser paused, and began again. "Inspector, perhaps if you'd tell me what it is you're trying to ascertain, I could be more helpful." 

"I'm just thinking, Fraser." _Just thinking that you're the most exasperating man I know. Not even Turnbull gives me as much trouble as you do, and that's really saying something._ She eased him back down on the bed. A strand of hair fell forward across his brow, and, still lost in thought, she brushed it back tenderly. 

And a split-second later realised what she'd done. Fraser was giving her his patented quizzical look, and she glared at him, her face flaming. 

Of course, Vecchio, with an uncanny sense of timing, chose that moment to stroll into the room with the recalcitrant wolf. He took in the situation with one glance, and his face broke into an expression of almost childlike glee. To Meg's surprise, he said nothing, but the grin remained as he went to Fraser's side. "Hey, Benny. How're you feeling?" 

"Fine, thank you, Ray. And you?" 

"Oh, just great. Wanna sign my cast? - hey, have you seen the paper?" 

"Actually, no, Ray..." 

" 'Cos we're in it." Ray turned to look at Meg curiously. "Did you really race in yelling, 'My men are in there'?" 

"Well, I wouldn't have put it like that..." She grimaced slightly, recalling having said something melodramatic to a bystander who had tried to hold her back. "I was under a bit of pressure then, Detective. Good dialogue was hardly foremost in my mind." 

"Of course not, Inspector," the detective told her magnanimously. "And on behalf of Dief and myself, I'd like to say that we are honoured that you consider us _your men_. You're building up quite a collection there." 

"It was a slip of the tongue, Vecchio," she snapped at him. "Attribute it to stress." His grin was starting to get on her nerves; the detective saw a lot more than he was willing to let on - unless he knew it would get a rise out of her. She muttered something about finding a nurse, and left the room. 

Ray laughed, and glanced at Fraser. "You know what, Benny? That woman is less scary when she's being scary." 

He returned the look, pained. "Ray, could you perhaps be a little more polite? She did save our lives, after all." 

"Oh, I'm not saying anything against her, you know." 

"Really." Fraser's tone suggested scepticism. 

"No, really. You know, she's a smart lady, Ben. Pretty gutsy." 

"I don't think I ever said she wasn't, Ray." 

"No, I don't think you did. Who'd have thought it, though?" 

"She _is_ an inspector in the RCMP, you know, Ray. That does mean something." 

"Hmm." Ray was non-committal, then added, "This is not to say, of course, that I would be devastated if she gets caught in random gunfire one day." 

"Now, _Ray_ ," Fraser began reproachfully. 

"What?" Vecchio demanded in aggrieved innocence, and laughed. "Pretty gutsy lady, though." 

"Yes, I know, Ray." 

Standing outside in the corridor, listening to everything they said in spite of strict inhibitions against eavesdropping, Meg Thatcher tried to suppress a sudden rush of elation, and set off in search of a nurse. 

============================================== 

Nicola Heiser died on 24th October 1997, and is greatly missed by her friends and fans of her writing. 

* * *


End file.
